


of firsts and seconds

by DropsOfAutumn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Does it count as slow burn when it's not 10K words?, Fluff and Humor, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Kosmo has a crush on Shiro, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Slow Burn, Smut, and Keith loves coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 04:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfAutumn/pseuds/DropsOfAutumn
Summary: It didn’t happen every day that your new neighbour turned out to be pretty gay and pretty good looking and pretty much preferred kissing you over painting his room.





	of firsts and seconds

**Author's Note:**

> Bless Keith and Shiro for making me write my first story after a 10 year break. Actually this is an AU I've written 12 years ago for a different pairing and it took three days, five cups of coffee and 8.000 words to completely re-write this because pining Keith does not deserve me copy-pasting everything. Hope you have fun.

_i._

On a scale from one to ten, being woken up by the sound of something heavy landing on the floor first thing in the morning was definitely a solid 9. His dog jumping on his bed and barking loudly while tackling the air from his lungs raised it to a 9,5.  
  
_Well, so much for sleeping in._  
  
Keith had planned to spend his free day sleeping until noon, binging on snacks and take-out food and beating some villain’s ass in that video game Pidge had lent him over the weekend and only leaving his apartment to take his dog – _‘Just name him Kosmo already, everyone calls him that’, Pidge had explained last time_ – for a walk.

Groaning, the black-haired man pet his dog and let him lick his face before nudging him of his bed, turning one last time before he decided to kick his blanket away and sit up.

He didn’t have time to get into detail about how cold the absence of said blanket made him feel, when there was the sound of shuttering glass from next door, causing him to sit up straight while Kosmo barked again. He cursed the two layers of wall separating his sleeping room from the neighbouring flat, apparently too thin to block out any sound.

Two months ago, the old lady next door had moved out, leaving him with an empty flat next door and the charming remark of ‘now you’re finally free to listen to loud music, boy!’. Said old lady had always had some restrictions when it came to hearing, so Keith’d never had any problems with turning up the volume of his stereo or telling his dog to be quiet – but there had been a problem with the lady’s inability to carry any items which were heavier than her purse, often ending up with him carrying up twice as much bags the four flights of stairs leading up to their floor.

  
So he had spent the past two month old-lady-less, caring only for his own grocery bags, listening to music as loud as he wanted and playing computer games till late at night, sleeping in and definitely not looking for lost cats or lost keys. His lonesome days on the second floor couldn’t have been any more perfect.

Until the moment he was woken up by a cupboard colliding with the floor that was surely supposed to lean fixed against some wall. He hoped his neighbour would have the decency to place a cupboard against their shared wall where his own bed was residing. And not their own bed. People on beds could make noises. Cupboards couldn’t.

  
With eyes barely open and slowly getting used to the brightness of the daylight, he shuffled into the kitchen, rather blindly making his way to his coffee machine without hitting any furniture or stumbling over dirty laundry or his dog.

A pleasant sigh left his lips once the promising click of a switched-on coffee maker rang in his ears, accompanied by the sound of black liquid dripping into his mug and the well-known smell of freshly brewed coffee.  
  
A minute later he got lost in the taste of coffee when a door was slammed shut with a force that made him startle. And pour half of his coffee over his hand, the other half now forming a puddle on his kitchen floor while Keith eyebrow began to twitch dangerously.

  
Without caring for his current state of being dressed – namely nothing but a pair of black boxers – and his hair an utter mess, Keith headed to the door, followed by a curious dog.

 

“It’s freaking 10 o’ clock in the morning, can’t you be…” Suddenly the time became the only thing he knew, including the correct use of any words or decent language.

First thing he saw was a heartwarming smile and a biceps he was sure could crush his bones with ease. Second thing he noticed was white hair and a scar running over a delicate nose and maybe Keith forgot to breathe for a moment.  
The sun was rising on the other side of the flat complex, but it swept through open doors and illuminated the guy in front of him just right. The sight was something he would usually expect from bad romantic movies, but here he was, cursing himself for having lost any ability to even think.

There was this box in the guy’s arms and it looked heavy (but nothing that biceps from heaven couldn’t carry), and the tall guy had stopped in his track, gazing at him, watching him, taking him in. Keith felt like his gazing was taking two more seconds than necessary before the guy’s smile got even wider. And was there a blush forming or did Keith only imagine the faint colour on the other guy’s cheeks?

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” A deep voice accompanied these words and maybe Keith was a goner. His new neighbour was gorgeous and cheerful and all smiles so early in the morning. How.

“Yes, you did.” The words sounded grumpier than Keith had wanted them to sound. There was freaking Adonis standing in front of him and his way of flirting consisted of intimidating this walking wet dream. Way to go, Keith. Way to go.

“I’m very sorry. I assumed there were only elderly people living in this complex and they tend to wake up early. Seems as if I had been wrong.” That smile seemed kind of addictive, Keith assumed. A little bit creepy, because he couldn’t remember the moment he had last seen someone with a smile like this. Pleasant, warming, not all sunshine and happiness, but… comforting?

Nevertheless, the guy’s reasoning sucked.

 

The box was placed on the ground and hands were clumsily cleaned by being rubbed against the fabric of grey sweatpants (covering _thick_ thighs, Keith noticed before averting his eyes), and Adonis offered him his hand. A hand made of metal, having Keith startled for a second while he noticed the modern prosthetic instead of a flesh arm. He shook the hand and gazed back to the face of the man, not wanting to pry and make him uncomfortable.  
  
“Takashi Shirogane. Your new neighbour, I’m about to move in. Seems as if we’re stuck with living next door. You can call me Shiro.” So no new cat-loving grandpa who had troubles carrying his own boxes up the stairs. Instead, Shirogane seemed as if he could easily carry _him_ up the stairs. This one promised to be good.

“Hi, I’m Ke....” “Hey Shiro, you don’t happen to have a broom here? I might have broken one or two glasses.” They were interrupted by a voice coming from the apartment, followed by a blonde mob of hair appearing behind the open apartment door. Leaving both guys in an awkward semi hand shake, looking anywhere but at each other.

 _Call-me-Shiro_ groaned. “I know I shouldn’t have trusted you with the glasses.” He turned to Keith, a sorry smile on his lips. Somewhere along these lines, the rest of the other guy’s body had managed to step out of the flat, revealing a tall but lean figure and hair held back in a low ponytail. He looked quite familiar, but Keith couldn’t put a finger to where he might’ve seen the guy before.

“This is Matt, a colleague of mine. He’s helping me move. Matt, meet…” There might have been an awkward second of silence when both neighbours remember there hadn’t been a name introduced yet.

“Keith, nice to meet you”, the black-haired man waves, still a bit stunned by Adonis Shirogane and _where does he work,_ and _is there a secret layer for handsome guys?_

Fortunately, Matt interrupted the train of thoughts before a blush could form on his cheeks. “You can call me Matt. But I should tell you it’s Matthew Holt. Shiro here is so used to introducing me as Matt, I’d known his ex-boyfriend for half a year before he asked me whether I had a full name.” Keith’ mouth formed a silent ‘Oh’ while his new neighbour rushed over to his friend, shoving him back into the flat with a ‘Broom’s in the bedroom, just go already’ on his lips. Maybe Keith had imagined the blush on his neighbour’s face and his flailing arms. But damn, he surely had not imagined the sight of some nice rear end Shiro spotted in those sweat pants.

“Hey Matt, take care of any mirrors. Seven years of bad sex, you know?” Keith yelled after Matt and the last thing they saw of the blonde were two fingers forming a victory sign before the guy disappeared into the flat next door.

With a smirk on his lips, Keith leaned against the doorframe to his own apartment, arms crossed in front of his chest, stating “He’s quite a nice guy”, while his gaze returned to his white-haired Adonis. Said neighbour cleared his throat, trying to avert his eyes. The blush on his face a strong contrast to the impressive posture his neighbour gave off, still quite a sight to behold. It made Keith chuckle.  
  
Until Shiro cleared his throat again, one hand scratching his head. “I.. I don’t know about you, but I think you should... maybe… get dressed?” And maybe, just maybe, Keith had forgotten he was pretty much naked except for his boxers.  
  
_Oh boy. OH BOY._  
  
Keith felt the heat creep to his cheeks and thought now would have been the perfect moment for the ground to open up and swallow him whole – when something soft brushed against his leg and a second later his neighbour was pinned to the floor by a very happy ball of 40 pounds of fur, barking and happily wagging his tail. He even decided to lick the other guy’s face and maybe Keith didn’t want to elaborate on this thought of his dog liking Shirogane’s face just as much as he did.

The laugh escaping the other guy’s lips in between his “Hello, good boy” and “You like that?” left a warm tug on Keith’ stomach and an ache in his heart and maybe, just maybe, he never wanted this handsome superman to stop petting his dog.

“What’s his name?” Shiro asked when I finally turned his eyes away from the joyful ball of fur. He had managed to sit up on his knees while still petting the dog that by now was lying on the floor, asking for some belly rubs. _‘Your dog’s already crushing on the hot new neighbour’_ , Keith thought with a sigh, shaking his head lightly.

“He doesn’t really have one. Some friends call him Kosmo. With a K. The name has somehow stuck. Looks as if he likes you,” Keith explained, arms still crossed over his chest, a hint of laughter in his words.  
  
“Hello Kosmo, I’m Shiro!” And _Don’t-call-him-Kosmo,-Pidge!_ waved his tail and let out a bark and maybe, maybe the name Kosmo had to stay because there was no way Keith would ever get weary of Shiro calling his dog’s name out like that.

  
“I’m sorry I have to say goodbye already, Kosmo. But I have to save my glasses from my dumb colleague. And pick up some cupboards.” Shirogane laughed and stood, dusting some dirt off his sweatpants. “Nice to meet you Keith. I don’t want to bother you any longer. I hope to talk to you again.”  
The white-haired guy waved, returned to the box he had been caring before and disappeared into his new apartment. He left Keith to himself, who had some trouble ignoring the loud thumbing of his heart. Trailing behind his dog, he went back to his kitchen to finally make some coffee he would actually manage to drink. In peace, without cupboards falling down or glassed doors shattering to pieces or his dog crushing on the handsome new neighbour.

Oh boy, what a morning.

_Oh boy._  
  


_ii._  
  
  


For a second time that day he took the stairs, this time upwards. Living on the second floor sure was not a climb per se, but after returning from a 60-minute jog, taking any kind of stairs made him curse living in an apartment complex without a lift. It did not help that his dog started running up the stairs as soon as they had entered the complex – driven by the promise of food in Keith’ apartment. Kosmo stopped at the top of each flight of stairs, waiting for Keith to catch up with him, staring down at his owner and not seeming exhausted at all. And Keith huffed, when suddenly the dog was startled by something, ears twitching, jumping for the next flight of stairs.  
  
Keith’ ears caught a familiar deep voice saying “Good morning, Kosmo” and what followed where some barks, a yell and the sound of things colliding with the floor. Keith could only mutter some “Kosmo, no…” before he rounded the corner and found his new neighbour sprawled on the flight of stairs in front of him, his dog on top and licking the other guys face, both surrounded by a bunch of what seemed to be paint buckets.  
  
He couldn’t even be mad with his dog and maybe he wanted to get used to the sight of Shiro petting Kosmo. Even if it made his heart skip a beat or two, before he shushed his dog away and held out his arm to help Shiro up. There might have been another tug at his stomach when his neighbour held on to him with his prosthetic and maybe Keith let himself think about being drawn onto the other guy by his raw strength instead of helping him up.  
  
He might have imagined it, but he was pretty sure there was a ting of disappointment in Kosmo’s judging eyes before the dog barked and made his way to Keith’s apartment door.  
  
“Seems like he’s eager to go home!” Shiro exclaimed playfully, picking up the buckets from where they were sprawled on the stairs. Keith shrugged. “He’s just hungry, no breakfast yet. He tends to get hangry real fast.” And his neighbour laughed wholeheartedly. “Same, Kosmo, same.”

Keith picked up the last bucket, careful to avoid any more dumb ‘picking up the same bucket while your hands would touch, making you both blush like school girls’ romcom movie moments (yesterday’s semi-naked corridor experience still playing on repeat in his mind) and handed it to Shiro who let out a small thank you. Even without the romcom movie moment, there seemed to be a blush on the taller guy’s face.

“Why don’t you two come over? I’ve bought some cake on my way home. I thought I could call Matt. But I’m pretty sure he’s still sleeping.” Shiro pointed at the bag dangling from his wrist which gave Keith a second to consider. He’d just come back from his jog, all sweaty and exhausted, but the promise of freshly baked cake sounded very much appealing. So he nodded. “Why not? I’ll contribute some coffee. Just let me get a shower real quick!”  
“Awesome!” Shiro’s face lit up with a smile while Keith noticed him struggling to keep the paint buckets from falling to the floor again. “I .. I don’t know, but.. maybe, if you like, you could help me paint my kitchen?” And Keith tripped over the next step.  
  


As if.  
  


No one had ever managed to get him paint any room, not even Pidge. Which meant a lot, since it took a lot of willpower to withstand her puppy-eyes and her ways of having enough blackmail material on tape to last a lifetime.

Keith had principles. And those included a safe distance of two meters to any open paint bucket.  
  
Those principles also included not falling for your new neighbour after only two days.

 

 

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to move the brush up and down. Up and down”. Somewhere in between cake crumbs and open paint buckets, both guys had fallen into painting together and chatting like the had known each other for years. The kitchen was just like the one in his apartment, only mirrored and empty for now. Shiro had decided he wanted one wall to be mint green and Keith might have rolled his eyes at the choice, considering his own apartment had simply remained white for he could not have been bothered to paint it just so he would have to paint over any colour in case he moved again.

  
Still, painting Shiro’s kitchen left him with said neighbour, both in some old shirts and pants, paint rollers in their hands and not long until they had paint stains on their limbs and faces. And Keith eyes had a hard time not sneaking glimpses of the other guy’s arm muscles flexing while painting his wall.  
_Man, he was so weak._

  
“Hey, it’s not like it’s important how I paint, you won’t see it when everything is dry, anyway,” Keith grumbled. The only thing he got as a response was a chuckle from Shiro.

  
As it turned out, his new neighbour worked on the military base outside of town, mainly as a teacher for younger cadets, but also supporting Matt and his father in the research department. Keith knew there were apartments for employees on the premises, but he didn’t want to pry and ask Shiro why he decided to move here. He assumed it had to do with that ex-boyfriend Matt had mentioned before.

“Great, now I have this whole ‘up and down’ stuff stuck in my head.” Keith bluntly moved his paint roller, up and down and up again, with great emphasize so Shiro would not complain again. “It’s your fault if I get any nightmares”, he groaned and the other guy chuckled, making his way out of the kitchen. “That’s the spirit. Keep going while I see if there’s some cake left.”

  
“Yes, Sir.” And hopefully, Keith’ eyes didn’t trick him for he could have sworn Shiro tripped over his own two feet when he heard his response.

  
So much to him and his safe distance to any sort of paint bucket.

 

_iii._

Their third meeting started a lot like the first one, with Keith being waken up two hours before he had intended to wake up. There was a persistent ringing of his door bell and a dog stealing his blanket and in his sleep-drunken state, with eyes halfway closed and the worst bed-hair he could imagine, he finally opened the door to be greeted by Shiro, an empty coffee pot in one hand and the brightest smile on his lips. And Kosmo rubbing against his legs. Seriously, what was wrong with his dog?

  
“Hey”. Shiro’s words were especially soft this morning, while he reached out to greet the dog with an affectionate pet before his eyes returned to gaze at Keith, an equally soft smile on his lips. “They are currently installing my kitchen and I thought maybe you have some coffee for me?”

  
“Coffee sounds good.” Because it always did, especially during soft mornings, two hours earlier than intended. At least he had learned from a former incident and gone to sleep with a shirt on. One semi-naked morning encounter was enough. For now.

With no plan on how to spend that morning, two extra hours and Shiro’s flat being occupied, they drifted together on Keith’ couch and talked about life. Kosmo sneaked in between the two of them, enjoying being petted by two people. Some of his research books for his university course about astrophysics were scattered over his coffee table. Before Keith could excuse the mess, Shiro’s eyes started to widen and both guys found themselves in a heated debate about their favourite constellation. It turned out his neighbour was at least half as much a space-nerd as he was and Keith did not know how on earth it was possible to be as perfect as Shiro was. Even when he spilled half of his coffee over his dog and his couch after Keith complained about the plot of one of what turned out both of their favourite sci-fi novels and how it was unrealistic, “I mean, how do you expect aliens to get to the Kerberos moon and then simply stop and return home? Why not conquer the whole earth right there on the spot?”

They drifted apart when the workmen rang the doorbell and asked about the position of the dish washer while Keith put their cups in the sink. They drifted together again, when the black-haired guy got ready for work and Shiro put on his scarf and handed the workmen a slice of paper with his mobile phone number written on it, following Keith to the coffee shop he worked at. “It’s a great opportunity to see more of the area!”, Shiro claimed, his grip tightening around a folder with his students’ papers he still had to grade. “And coffee shops always have this special feel about them. I like how you see a million different people doing different things and ordering different types of coffee. Don’t you sometimes wonder what made them choose that specific coffee shop or order a specific cup of coffee?”

  
Keith _had_ heard these thoughts before. Not voiced, but in his own head, on days when working at the coffee shop had provided him with especially interesting people and stories and coffee orders. Could meeting Shiro be a dream? One of those good dreams where you meet the person you’re destined to be with? Because Shiro was gorgeous and loved his dog and coffee and how could he be so thoughtful?

  
When Keith really tripped over the next best stone and nearly fell, Shiro just caught him halfway before he started to laugh wholeheartedly. And Keith decided, while grumbling and blushing, that, no, it wasn’t a dream, because in dreams the person would indeed be perfect. And perfect persons wouldn’t laugh about your fails, would they?

 

_iv._

 

  
It took four rings of the doorbell and two barks of Kosmo for Shiro to open his apartment door the next morning.

They had spent their afternoon at _The White Lion_ , (‘Of course I chose a white lion. What else to name it? Pink Kitten?’ his boss Allura had proudly explained to him one day), with Shiro devouring one latte after the other, grading his student’s papers and Keith fighting with indecisive customers and unwilling espresso machines as well as snooping coworkers (‘No Lance, he’s not my boyfriend and now go and fetch me some coffee beans’, he shoved the tall colleague to the back of the store). Sometimes – and really only sometimes when there was no line of customers to take care of and no mugs to rinse – Keith had sneaked up to Shiro, providing him with another piece of cake (‘You should taste it, Hunk makes the best cheesecakes ever’), peering over his shoulder, reading through the answers of some of Shiro’s students, which could have led to one or another discussion about physics and math and damn, _Pidge would be proud he actually remembered any of this._

  
Later on they would come home, a bit cold on the outside from the chilly evening that autumn had provided, but filled with warmth on the inside from smiles and laughs and nice company and so they said their goodbyes, lingering a bit too long, a bit too sad, on their doormats until they couldn’t come up with any more excuses not to part anymore.

  
So they parted, with Keith declaring he wanted to sleep two hours longer the next day and Shiro chuckling, waving and telling his neighbour to pet Kosmo for him.

 

  
That night, hours after Kosmo had been thoroughly pet and fed and tugged to bed, there had been that dream. A nice dream, one that started with Keith flying through space and thinking about coffee and a warm smile. Somewhere in between blankets and paint buckets, he had found himself in a room, just like his own bedroom. Only this bedroom had a distinctive colour of dark blue, deep like the night sky. And just like that, the good dream turned into a pleasant dream, when a deep and seductive voice rang in his ear, telling him to continue moving ‘just up and down, up and down’. His dream-self had a paint roller in his hands and he could feel the press of a second pair of familiar hands on his waist, touching, tickling, wandering down. A loud yelp escaped his lips when the paint roller wasn’t the only thing moving ‘up and down’.

  
And a mere few moments later, Keith woke up, tangled in sheets. Hot and obviously aroused, the voice in his head and the hands in his waist gone.  
  
Needless to say, the first thing he did was switching on his coffee machine on his way to the shower while trying to clear his thoughts. Damn, what was _that_?

 

Showered and caffeinated – and dressed in more than boxers and a shirt, because duh, what was he? _A savage_? – Keith stood in front of the door to his neighbour’s apartment, Shiro greeting him over some 80s music coming from inside.

  
“Uh, I’m sorry, bad timing?” There was no smile on the older guy’s face and Keith nearly regretted interrupting whatever his neighbour had been up to. Even more so with Shiro’s state of being dressed – in this case only a pair of sweatpants and the dire absence of any shirt. Keith was greeted by quite a nice set of abs and the sudden urge to take another cold shower.

  
“Oh no, no, everything’s fine, I just finished my workout.” The usual smile returned to Shiro’s lips, but Keith was rather distracted by some drop of sweat that made its way down his neighbours’ stomach. He didn’t notice the small ‘Oh’, escaping his lips nor the blush forming on his cheeks, but realisation seem to hit Shiro hard. So hard he hit his toe on his apartment door when he turned in a split second, searching for a shirt and sputtering “Damn, I’m sorry, let me just get a shirt!”. Maybe Keith was not the only one being doomed here.

Shiro returned, his cheeks red and fortunately wearing a shirt. It seemed to be an old shirt, a bit too tight around his shoulders, causing Keith to gulp.

“Are you free? You can help me with painting my room!” Well, okay. There still was a chance to turn on his heels.  
He should have been surprised, but when he entered Shiro’s bedroom and found one white wall about to be turned dark blue, Keith could not stop a chuckle from escaping his lips. “It’s my favourite colour. It reminds me of space”, the man explained and Keith slipped into one of Shiro’s old shirts, about 3 sizes too big for him. A paint roller was shoved into his hands and Shiro fished a bottle of wine from somewhere, not caring for glasses. “To celebrate.”, he explained, but when Keith asked what exactly they should be celebrating, because, well, the hadn’t even started yet, the white-haired guy only took a sip from the bottle before handing it to him with a smile on his lips. “Matt killed all my glasses”. They shared a smile and maybe another sip of wine.

It did not take long before the first drop of blue paint fell onto the black fabric of his borrowed shirt. They shrugged it off when shortly after both their clothes, limbs and faces were speckled with paint. With two men and only one wall to paint, they finished their job quite fast before they decided to lie down on the plastic foil that prevented any colour to stain the floor. The bottle was passed between them, slowly but surely getting emptier, while both man stared at the ceiling and talked about infinity and broken hearts and how unfair life could be when everything Shiro had ever wanted had been piloting that space mission and his plane crashed two months before, leaving him with only one arm and an ex-boyfriend that tried, tried oh so hard to help with his trauma but could not keep Shiro from breaking.

  
And Keith popped up, asking whether there was some white paint left.

  
Shiro found some small brushes and a ladder in that empty room he used to store everything and anything (‘It will become a workout room, some day, I swear!’) and they took turns painting small white spots on the dark blue wall. “Now you can always aim for the stars”, was Keith explanation, and after finishing what he thought could pass as the Leo constellation – if you squeezed very hard –, Shiro thought that maybe the wall was not the only thing that needed to get star maps painted all over.

Good thing Keith thought the same and in a blink of an eye, both guys ended up chasing each other through the room, armed with brushes and paint and laughter.

Keith using his smaller size to hide behind the ladder made Shiro try hitting him by circumnavigating said ladder – which Keith easily dodged. There was a short pause when Shiro just grunted and cursed the ladder and the younger guy used it to aim for Shiro’s neck, letting his left arm glide through the gaps between the steps.

That did anything but amuse Shiro who tried a counter attack but failed to hit Keith’ nose. The black-haired guy dodged to the side to escape, but not in time to be spared by Shiro’s brush. He laughed when he realized there was a big streak of paint on his right cheek, but couldn’t stop in his track, because Shiro was already on his way to follow him. The second he remained in his position should become his doom, because it was the second Shiro was fast enough to tackle him from behind, catching one of his hands and pulling him close so their foreheads would touch, while his metal arm had sneaked around Keith’ waist, keeping him from moving.

“You..”, Keith huffed, his lungs burning for air and his heart about to burst out of his chest from being held in incredibly warm and strong arms. “...are using an unfair advantage.” Shiro’s eyes were grey and big and beautiful and if Keith looked close enough he could see the stars, before he bent his head lightly and pressed his lips to Shiro’s, just right, just so it felt _good_. Making Shiro startle and lower his guard for a second.

  
The second Keith needed to paint a big white mark on Shiro’s left cheek.

Shiro’s grip loosened just enough for Keith to escape his arm and get some distance between them, before Shiro growled “You beg for revenge, don’t you?!” and started chasing the younger guy.  
  
  
In a room with four walls there was only so much space to escape and Shiro must have decided that the best way of defense was attacking, letting out an alarming yell before tackling Keith around his waist. There was no finesse to it and it caught Keith off guard, slipping on the foil on the ground – which sent both guys to the floor, laughing in between panting for air.

  
They landed, Shiro on top, his face buried somewhere in his black hair, and Keith could hear Shiro’s laughter right there, next to his ear, followed by a stream of air that sent about the right amount of shivers down his spine. Aware of his own weight, this intimacy ended when Shiro moved up, kneeling above his neighbour.

  
“You’re okay?” Shiro asked, concerned.  
“Yup, nothing’s broken.” And Keith smiled.  
“Good” Shiro kissed him.  
“Uhum.” And Keith kissed back.

 

_v._

 

The fifth cup of coffee made its way down his throat and Keith could not help to think that his flat felt kind of empty, with no cheerful smile and no one to join him drinking said coffee. Not even his dog, curling around him where he was sitting on the couch, every so often poking his snout into Keith leg to distract him from his university papers, could make the emptiness a bit bearable. If nothing else, Kosmo reminded him how much he missed Shiro sitting next to him.

Every couple of minutes, Keith could hear laughter coming from next door, drifting through the thin walls. Shiro had friends over. And freshly baked cake.

His neighbour had invited him to come over, because his friends wouldn’t bite, at least not when cake would be present, but Keith had politely declined the offer. There was a slight feeling he might have already fallen too deep for a certain white-haired guy. In addition, he had seen enough paint rollers and moving boxes over the past days. And coursework to be written.

  
As much as he liked painting Shiro’s walls and drinking wine and snogging, the idea of spending a day alone with Kosmo, Pidge’s video game and a pot of coffee had sounded appealing on a Saturday morning.  
  
On Saturday afternoon, tough, the whole thing looked a lot different, when every cup of coffee tasted the same and his university texts stopped making sense in his head and the damn video game boss killed him for the twentieth time.

  
They hadn’t stopped kissing for a while and afterwards they had talked through touches, gestures and through Shiro’s smile, soft and warm and precious.  
Keith could not put a finger on what exactly they were. _If_ they were.  
It didn’t happen every day that your new neighbour turned out to be pretty gay and pretty good looking and pretty much preferred kissing you over painting his room. Keith couldn’t find the catch.  
And yet it seemed complicated.

Keith thought about calling Allura and asking to change shifts so he could have Lance and Hunk distracting his thoughts with the newest gossip and delicious cheesecake. It would be better than spending his evening watching a random movie and falling asleep on his couch, snuggled against Kosmo, right when the plot would become especially lame.

  
In the end, right when he was about to call the next best delivery service before asking Pidge for a walkthrough on that nasty game boss, his doorbell rang.  
  
And actually, it did not surprise him when he was faced his hot neighbour, a pot of coffee in his metal hand. “Uhm. Hey. Matt said I should pay you back for all the coffee I owned you.” Shiro did barely look him in the eyes, fixating on a spot on the floor while his free hand scratched his neck.

“And he said you should taste his cooking! His mac and cheese are superb!”, Matt’s voice came from the hallway where he was about to put on his shoes and leave, already wearing his jacket. “And Katie told me to say hi. She wants her game back.”

Matt waved to both guys at Keith door before descending the staircase, his blond mop of hair disappearing from their sight.

“Did Matt just as me out for dinner at yours?”, Keith had so many questions. Like... the last few weeks could possibly not be happening like that.

“I... I guess?” Shiro scratching his neck intensified while he started on the pot of coffee in his hand. “You seem to know his sister? Katie?” Keith eyes darted from Shiro’s face to the coffee pot back to Shiro’s face. And he stepped back to make way for his neighbour, inviting him inside.

“I knew he looked familiar! Pidge is in one of my university courses. And just come in already, the coffee’s going to get cold.” And when Shiro looked up and his confusion turned into a smile and a blush, Keith couldn’t help from tripping a bit over his own feet and his beating heart. “You don’t have any leftover cake by chance?”

 

Later that evening, they were sitting on the couch, watching some random movie. Kosmo had taken half of the space, his head in Shiro’s lap, leaving them with no choice but to snuggle closer. Keith found himself falling asleep somewhere in the middle of the movie, right when the plot would become especially lame. He could only remember his head pillowed on Shiro’s shoulder, feeling Shiro’s heart hammer against his ribcage, and the warmth of Shiro’s arm around his waist, drawing slow circles on the skin where Keith’ shirt had ridden up just right, and he decided that maybe he could get used to falling asleep like this. To falling for Shiro.

 

vi.

 

  
it was the sixth time Keith checked himself in the mirror that evening. He still wasn’t satisfied with how he looked and so he fought with his hair for the seventh time before giving up and getting a hair tie to turn the mess on his head into something presentable.

  
He had spent about half of his day telling himself that he didn’t need to look perfect, that his neighbour would just laugh if he saw him in his red leather jacket and the kind-of-tamed hair. On the other hand, Shiro was going to cook for him, something nobody had ever done for him before, so at least he could dress up for the occasion.  
  
After checking his reflection for the eight time and feeding Kosmo (and promising his dog ‘Next time you can come, too, buddy.’), Keith left for the apartment next door, five minutes early, his hands in the pockets of his pants and shaking just the slightest bit.  


“You’re early!” Keith drifted into his neighbour’s kitchen, where wine and dinner waited for him to celebrate a habitable flat, with rooms painted and carpeted and furnished. Keith had seen the flat empty before and in several stages of moving in, but seeing the whole picture was something different. Whereas Keith had once rooted for cheap second-hand cupboards and couches, Shiro’s furniture mostly consisted of new and modern pieces and monochrome colours. Even though their flats where nearly the same, this apartment gave off an entirely different feeling. A Shiro kind of feeling.

  
Keith’ thoughts were interrupted when Shiro explained that he should have waited five more minutes, but nevertheless he pulled back one chair for Keith and poured some wine (‘Did you buy new glasses?’) before checking his oven for the food, making Keith’ heart flutter a bit.

Matt had not been wrong; the Mac and Cheese were superb. Keith spent a good amount of time deciphering which flavours he tasted but failed at it. They talk about Shiro’s students at the base and about Keith’ customers at the coffee shop and how Katie ( _’Please call her Pidge!’_ , Keith had groaned) had given Matt hell for not telling him sooner the two of them had met before.

Shiro just laughed while getting out dessert and the two guys shared a smile, wine glasses clicking before chocolate cake was killed.

 

Keith would later call it clichéd, but the atmosphere tensed when Keith dived into a particularly big piece of chocolate cake and Shiro bent over to brush a crump from his cheek, the silence between them tense and swollen with unanswered questions, longing, uncertainty, everything, but when their eyes met their galaxies collided.

  
And so did their lips.  


Just like that, Shiro had pulled him onto his lap and what had been light kisses a couple of days before, leaving them with butterflies in their stomachs, had turned into longing, into passion, kissing with their whole bodies instead of just their lips, fingers and hands exploring bodies.

Keith stopped caring when he felt hands delving in his shirt, pulling him closer, ignoring how it would leave creases in the freshly ironed fabric.

He felt tempted to deepen the kiss, getting more intense, putting more longing and feeling in whatever it was they shared and while he was still contemplating, his thoughts were interrupted when he felt Shiro’s tongue on his lips and in his mouth.

Well, that gave him a pretty clear sign where they were going.

  
Shiro’s invitation was reciprocated quite quickly, his soft tongue exploring Keith’ mouth and teeth and maybe Keith heard a soft moan escape the other guy’s lips and it was surely one of the hottest things he had heard till now.

The tugging at his shirt loosened and was replaced by hands caressing Keith’ neck, cheeks, fingers delving through his mane of black hair after the hair tie was unfasted and lost on the floor. Shiro moaned again when Keith’ lips left his and wandered down his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. “You’re so hot”, Shiro whispered and in between kisses Keith wished Shiro would not see his blushing.

With the promise of warm skin under his fingertips, it was his turn to tug at the other guy’s shirt, maybe a bit too rash, maybe a bit too needy, but it felt just right. Felt just enough to start building up a welcomed arousal. He breathed into Shiro’s neck where he left kisses and maybe a bruise – but he couldn’t help, this neck here was just too inviting not to be plastered in kisses.

Shiro’s finger found their way to his waist, touching the skin right above the waistband of his pants oh so lightly and when Keith felt the other guy humming hot air against his ear, he couldn’t tell if his goosebumps where caused by one or the other. Or both.  
  
His skin was on fire and he decided to make a bold request while his fingers played with the fabric of Shiro’s shirt, sneaking underneath and gracing the bigger guy’s muscular sides. “Maybe we should…” Keith’ words were interrupted by a sudden intake of breath, followed by a laugh. Shiro pulled away, his arms crossed over his stomach, hands pressed to the side, creating a distance between the two men and leaving Keith all puzzled and slightly panicking. _Oh boy, I ruined it._  
  
Shiro just laughed the sincerest laugh. And it was addictive. “Don’t tell me you’re ticklish.”

And Shiro smiled and offered him a hand and tugged Keith, a little too strong, right into his arms just a bit off balance and Keith felt a bit tipsy, blaming it on the wine and the handsome man holding him in his arms.

“We should relocate this.” Shiro whispered into his ears and Keith memories flew back to a certain dream and a blue room and a paint roller, a voice whispering ‘Just up and down, up and down,’ which was enough to make him trip over his own feet when he tried to stand before Shiro simply swooped him up. In an instance, Keith wrapped his legs around the other man’s waist and his arms around his neck and the moan he got from Shiro for grinding against him was just as worth it as distracting Shiro halfway to his room with kisses so sloppy that they ran into a doorframe.

With Shiro telling him how sorry he was in between heated kissed, making sure Keith really was not hurt, they stumbled rather blindly through the flat, the doorframe not the only thing Keith’ back knocked into. It was okay, it was partly his fault, for he could not keep from rocking against this beautiful man who had his hands on his ass and his heart on his sleeves, before Shiro came to a halt and lowered him onto soft blankets and pillows. When Keith opened his eyes, he could see space and stars and maybe the milky way and Shiro smiling above him while asking “Is this okay? Please just say if anything makes you uncomfortable”, and Keith didn’t think the other guy had ever been so beautiful. He drew him down into a messy kiss and hoped Shiro could taste his answer on his lips. _‘Yes. YES.’_

  
They were both wearing too many layers of fabric, but Shiro was just as eager as himself and he fumbled with Keith’ belt while Keith tried to rid him of his shirt. He did not remember where he had left his own shirt, it must have been gone somewhere along the way between doorframe and bed and Keith did not care at all when he felt hot lips nuzzling at his earlobe and wandering down his neck, a cheeky tongue and lips playing with his collarbone, making his own lips moan and his toes curl.  
  
A soft “Oh Shiro” might have escaped his mouth at some point.

  
Oh damn, Shiro sure knew how to use these lips, that was for sure, the way he switched between nuzzling and _oh these kisses_. Usually, he would not be as passive, but Shiro was _good_ and eager and he couldn’t help, could not stop this gorgeous man from worshiping him. He still had his hands to explore Shiro’s torso, fingers outlining the muscles he had seen once before, carefully not to tickle the other again. And when Shiro’s hips rolled against his just like that, Keith felt his own arousal pressed against soft skin of Shiro’s legs and ‘ _Damn_ ’ coming from his mouth.

  
At some point they had lost every piece of fabric separating them and Keith was sure he forgot how to breathe just by the feel of Shiro’s skin on his. For a second a hand was touching him between his legs, just fleetingly, nearly as if unintentional, but Keith knew better and jerked his hips up, grinding into the touch, while his moans where damped by the man pinning him to the mattress, kissing him full and hard and passionate.

“Oh damn, Keith,” was all Shiro muttered and it was just as good a sign as any that, _yes_ , please, he should repeat whatever he just did. Shiro’s mouth had left his, only to move down to his neck. Fleeting touches turned into precise ones, stroking, pumping, and suddenly Shiro’s mouth presses oh so softly against the lobe of his ear, sending shivers down his spine with hot air and a soft whisper “Simply up and down, up and down” and that was all it took for Keith to pull Shiro into a messy kiss with tongue and everything that matters, while flipping them both on Shiro’s back until they had to break apart to gasp for air before Shiro chased him down again.

  
Keith knew he wouldn’t last long, could see an end coming, because Shiro really knew how to let him see stars and galaxies and constellations, but it didn’t matter to him, because damn, even a hand job turned into something so, so sensual and erotic Keith had a hard time keeping quiet. And Shiro noticed.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to keep your voice down”, he said with a smirk but ended with a gasp, because the dark-haired man’s hand had found its way down where it made Shiro a hot mess. ‘Just for him’ Keith noticed and he couldn’t keep from smirking when he remembered there were no neighbours next door who would be annoyed by their moans and just like that he bent down where his lips continued caressing the taller guy’s neck. He felt a pulse against his lips, so utterly arousing and _hot_.

Grinding his hips against Shiro’s, Keith was near the edge, with his blood rushing through his ears, while Shiro would not stop trusting his hips upward, his flesh hand searching for their cocks while his metal hand was pressed against the softness of Keith ass, and soon Keith had forgotten if he was the one riding Shiro’s hips or if he was lost under Shiro’s grinding. He only felt oh so right and _oh so hot_ and damn, he was such a mess for this guy. Keith could feel the length of Shiro’s cock against his own. Warm and hot and damp with precum. And it felt like their own kind of perfect.

  
In the dark he searched for Shiro’s other hand, the metal one, pressing it into the sheets and that was when the touching became too much and Keith heard himself mutter Shiro’s name while a hand was stroking him through his climax.

  
There warmth started filling his chest and when he looked down, he found Shiro looking up to him like he was stars turned human, still flushed and still aroused and Keith couldn’t help but bend down and take Shiro’s cock into his hands, wrapping his lips around the top, ignoring the mess he just made on both of their bellies, because the moans and pleas and his name on Shiro’s lip were so beautiful, not taking long for Shiro to come warm into his mouth with his back bending oh so slightly. Keith left a last kiss on the softening cock before reaching for the tissues on his nightstand to clean the mess they just made. He felt Shiro reach for him with his arm around his waist and Keith settles just beside him in the crook of his arm, bending over to leave a slow kiss on his lips.

 

  
“I think we should shower,” Shiro snickered, but Keith looped an arm over the other guy’s broad chest. “I think we should sleep.” He snuggled a bit closer, feeling the warmth and softness of Shiro’s skin and decided that, yes, sleep was really a nice option. When he felt Shiro press a kiss into the crown of his hair, there might even be butterflies in his stomach.

  
“You know”, Shiro’s words were a bit hazy, drunken from love and sleep and sex. Keith tried to save their sound in an extra pocket of his soul, just in case for bad days. “I just bought this bed and I think you are the first and last person I want to share it with.” And maybe it was a bit cheesy and maybe Keith would make sure to mock him about it in the morning, but for now it sent a smile to his face and the image of Kosmo squeezing in right against them to his mind and he drifted to sleep with Shiro’s arm around his waist and his heart beating right under his ear.

 

_vii._

 

It took about seven weeks for Keith to consider that one flat would be enough for both of them. They could turn Shiro’s empty room into a work-out office and most of Keith’ furniture had been hand-me-downs anyways.

  
Shiro nearly spilled his coffee when Keith first told him about his idea, but Keith kissed his boyfriend, nudged his earlobe just right and the thought that maybe waking up in the middle of the night and watching the stars with Keith clinging to his side and Kosmo snuggling at the end of the bed wouldn’t be the worst way to wake up.

Keith just had to bring his coffee machine.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Voltron fandom, what's good?  
> /chimes in 3 months late with Starbucks.  
> Find me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/dropsofautumn)


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